Who: Sam Tyler, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Locke
When: Day 36, evening
Where: The cook/signal fire (eventually)
Invited: Everyone
Status: Complete
Sam's quarry stank. He strode out of the jungle praying that the pair of dead,
overgrown lemmings he carried -- he hadn't a clue what the Corgi-sized rodents were -- hadn't permanently stunk
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"We went jogging earlier," John clarified.
"Ah." Sam took another bite of well-done nutria. He almost wished it had some pink to it, then remembered that he was eating rodent. Well done seemed to be for the best. "Since you lot enjoy running, perhaps we could organize a football match. Soccer, you Yanks call it, right?"
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Twisting around, a single brow rose in askance in response to the whistle. She, too, knew better than to encourage with any more than a silent 'acknowledgement'.
"Thank you, by the way, for cooking." Susan chuckled. "Not something I can do-- Oh! John. Yes... after this..." She pointed at the meat on the 'plate'. "Running tomorrow. If I'm going to wear you out, I might at least have fun doing it." She grinned at the other commander as she took her seat once more.
With the plate in her lap, the fronds to the side of her, she started eating-- carefully. It was good, and she honestly hadn't realized how hungry she was. "Mmm... That.. okay. I'm not going to ask what it is. I've learned that ( ... )
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she [Susan] looked across the fire from her, the smile turned smirk. "I hear the sound of a gauntlet dropping, John." Her tones were softly goading... all specifically meant to egg the other officer on.
John looked up from biting into the meat he was holding in his fingers, blue eyes flicking from Susan to Sam and back. He chewed and swallowed and nodded. "I was wondering what that sound was. A gauntlet, eh? Well, I've never been the one to stand idly by while gauntlets were being dropped near or around my general vicinity." He looked over at Sam and grinned at him, "I think that a soccer match is a fantastic idea. We played volleyball, might as well give some of the other sports a try. Just need to come up with a do-able soccer ball, using that basketball will break a toe."
He took another bite of meat and cast an innocent, mischevious look over at Ivanova. "Does this mean you'll be a cheerleader, then?"
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Slipping silently through shadows, as was his wont, he slipped up behind Sam, John and Susan, without making so much as a sound.
He (John) took another bite of meat and cast an innocent, mischevious look over at Ivanova. "Does this mean you'll be a cheerleader, then?""Given how well she kicks, she'd be better off as your centre forward!" he said, moving firmly into the light of the fire ( ... )
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John jumped almost spilling his dinner onto the dirt around him, "Holy schnikes, man! Don't do that! That's the easiest way to give a man a heart attack around here" especially after what they'd been through the past couple of weeks. He wiped a hand across his brow and blew a breath out, shaking his head.
He [Marcus]cast a look to John, trying to convey some gratitude there for the conversation earlier
John gave him a nod in return, he could honestly say that he liked the man, despite the fact that he had probably been trying to give him a heart attack for some of the things he said earlier. "Grab a plate and grab some grub before it goes. It's not half bad, as far as island food goes"
He flicked a look at Susan, grinning at her, "If you want to be forward, and you think you can play with the big dogs, you're more than welcome to it"
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Before she could get out a word in response, however, Marcus appeared. Susan didn't jump quite so drastically as John did, though. There was a sense that she was almost inured to it-- used to his comings and goings, his disappearances, only for him to reappear when she'd least expect it. When you least expect it, expect it. She looked up and backwards at the Ranger and smiled at his presence. She watched as he made his way around, and shifted to make room, though it turned out that it hadn't been necessary ( ... )
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Sam didn't miss the subtext under Marcus's compliment to Susan or her reaction. The pair was subtle, but Sam was trained to see such things. He turned his eyes to his plate. (I don't know why I bother. Bollocksed things up with Maya, probably would have with Annie, and DHARMA's popping me about in time for no discernable reason--)
"Big dogs? You?" Susan's leaning forward and cheerful words brought Sam out of his thoughts. "Sure. I'll play. Little rusty, though. Only had a baseball field on the station."
Sam blinked at her, surprised. He waved a hello at Oona, then turned back to Susan. "You played baseball in space? In the future?" The notion struck him an anachronistic.
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"Only things that were different was some of the food... and, well, the aliens. We discovered that there was one food that was part of every race in every part of the galaxy." Susan paused, looked to Marcus, then back to Sam and John, "Swedish Meatballs." No matter how it was 'packaged'... "Haven't met an alien race yet that didn't have it."
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He shifted and glanced around, looking for Aeryn.
"I don't see why a Ruskie can't play a good ol' American game, seeing as how soccer isn't even American." He turned to grin at her and Sam again.
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Sam grinned back. "Point." Then he gave John a mock-sour look. "Now I'm wishing Swedish meatballs were on the menu. Thanks." (That, and a pint of ale...)
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Sam stared for a moment longer before bursting into laughter. "You're..." he gasped, "you're serious!" He looked to Marcus for confirmation. The soft-spoken man nodded. "Blimey! And Daffy Duck."
"What about Daffy Duck?" Dean called from the other side of the fire.
Sam shouted back, "'e's a followin' in the future!"
The really tall Sam stood up. "What?!"
"Now you've done it, Susan," Sam chuckled. "You must tell us more about where, er, when you're from. Sounds far more interestin' than Manchester in 1973 or 2006."
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Sam grinned. "My pleasure. And it's not rat." The statement, although not defensive, raised a few eyebrows. "It's nutria."
"Nutria?"
"Yeah. They're, ah..." Sam chuckled from the only description he could come up with. "Pretty much big rats. But tasty!" He took a big bite of roast nutria, earning more laughter.
The attention made him a bit self-conscious. Sam was used to CID's scowls and sour looks when he pointed out how many laws and procedures they were ignoring. This was different and fun.
"Honestly," Sam added, "the game I can hunt is limited to small animals. My slingshot could probably take down a juvenile boar, but not without provoking the sow." The thought made him shudder.
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